Double Dipped: The Lunchtime Chronicles

by Brooklyn Knight

  He stomps after me. “I’m not here to arrest you, Candy.”

  “I’m supposed to believe that?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then what are you here for?”

  “To… keep gettin’ to know you. To make you happy,” is his lame-ass answer.

  I scoff, shocked by the way he actually thinks I should believe anything coming out of his mouth.

  “Candy, I’m only tellin’ you, so you know the truth,” he pleads.

  “I already know the truth,” I shout back. “Apparently, we both do. We both know how my ex-husband used to beat the shit out of me until the day I decided to actually stand up for myself and put a bullet through his head with his own gun.” I lower my voice. “Apparently, we both know that they’re trying to arrest me on murder charges. They don’t care that it was self-defense. They don’t care that I was a professional woman – an office manager – with no record, no priors whatsoever.” I narrow my eyes and point at him. “You know, Alex was just like you!”

  His neck flies back.

  “He’d say and do whatever he needed, just to bend my will, break me. The hell if I’m going to let another man control me the way he did.”

  Trigger’s face goes red, and for a split second, I see where his moniker comes from. He’s not going to hurt me – I sense that much – but the things I’ve said have made this cowboy stark, raving mad! Regret at not choosing my words more wisely slips in, but I shove it to the side. Maybe I went too far with what I’ve said. If Trigger was anything like Alex, I would have noticed it long before now. Still, there’s no time to consider this shit. I need to get out of here and back to the safety of Madame Elektra’s castle.

  I continue to collect the few things I actually own, and Trigger doesn’t say a word, yet his sadness is like a dark cloud hanging over the atmosphere, about to burst. I start for the door and just as I reach the threshold, he says something.

  “Don’t think I’m not comin’ back here, Sweetness,” he mutters.

  “To arrest me?”

  “Yeah,” he replies, “the way I have for the past three fuckin’ days.”

  My pussy percolates.

  “I can fix your problem, Candy. I swear, I can.”

  My jaw stiffens. “I… don’t want you to fix it,” I whisper. “You’ve done enough. That money you paid me will make for a retainer for a good lawyer, but Madame Elektra is already on it.”

  “That money I gave you wasn’t meant for no lawyer, Candy,” he bites out. “And I can fix it faster than Madame Elektra can. You just gotta’ trust me to do it.”

  “I don’t even know you.”

  “You know me, Sweetness.”

  I don’t say anything.

  Trigger advances, bringing with him a thick passion that almost consumes me where I stand. He runs his hand over my cheek, caressing my skin with his rough thumb. God, I want him to fuck me, just one more time. Before I leave.

  I need to get out of here.

  “My real name is Emmerson Grant,” he reveals in a whisper. “I’m a country boy who works his fingers to the bone, trying to make a good life for him and the ones he cares about.” He pauses, eyes pinned to mine. “I ain’t Alex or no other guy you done dealt with. You can trust me, Sweetness.”

  Before I can protest – not that I actually want to – he takes me with a kiss that is a culmination of our three days together. All I can do is press my aching body against his and moan against his lips.

  “See?” he growls. “See how I take care of you? It’s all I’m here to do. It’s all I wanna’ do.”

  I press my hands against his chest to create some distance and then turn away. “I’ve gotta’ go, Trigg. Please, leave this alone. Leave me alone.”

  And then I walk out.

  Trigger

  I burst through Colt’s office door. I make enough of a racket that he should have spun around with his guns bared, but he barely moves. Instead, he’s peering into files and documents. A scowl is etched deep into his features. It’s his normal look. I done known Colt all my life, but it’s been like this for a while. If I was a man who believed in all that psychological bullshit, I’d think he was clinically depressed, but anytime I try and question him, he tells me to fuck off.

  So, I do.

  But right now, I ain’t worrying about Colt’s mood disorders. My mind is ripped a part with Candy and the way she marched out of my hotel room early this morning. I don’t even have her cell phone number so I can blow her phone up, and when I tried to call Golden Girlz, I couldn’t access her.

  Like I told her though, if she thinks I won’t be back to Atlanta to find her, she needs to think twice about that. And if she thinks I don’t have the resources to get her number, her address or even her damn social security number, Sweetness better think about that one again too. I’m going back to ATL. In fact, I’m here to tell Colt this.

  “Who the hell done pissed you off?” he mutters. He hasn’t even looked up to regard me, but he most likely feels the steam rising off my skull, slapping him from the back.

  “Ain’t no one pissed me off,” I lie.

  He grunts. Still hasn’t looked. “Okay,” is all he says. Finally, he spins around in his chair. “Any leads on that outlaw?”

  I jerk. “Which one?”

  “Sammy Hill, the guy who killed his old lady and dumped her body in the river.”

  I scratch my jaw. I ain’t thought about damn Sammy Hill or any other felon for the last three days, longer if you ask Colt.

  I do have some intel, though. “Sources say he was last seen a couple’a hundred miles, east, at a titty bar. I got one of the guys to put a tracker on his car.”

  “Have you checked his status?”

  “Naw,” I admit. “Not yet, but I’m about to be on it.”

  Colt’s eyes narrow. “I thought that’s where you were,” he comments. “On it…”

  Oh, I was on it, I think. Thoughts of Candy’s pussy have my face burning. Something inside of me lurches.

  “Where you been, Trigg?” Colt asks, leaning back in his seat. He’s pushing it back so far, I almost think he’ll topple out of it.

  “Atlanta,” I answer heading for a vacant computer. “No, I wasn’t tracking Hill. I was handlin’ some other business.”

  Colt grins. “Other business…”

  I ignore him and open up the database, which will give me access to Candy’s current details. It’s the same one I used to learn that she was on the run. Shit, maybe I was too hasty revealing what I knew, but spending time with her reinforced something I’d felt deep in my heart, before I’d even arrived in Atlanta: Candy was special. Not only was she drop-dead gorgeous – I’d been able to assess that from N2U – but she was phenomenal in spirit and personality, and I wanted to be with her. I wanted to make her my woman. Because of that, I’d wanted to be honest with her. The last thing I thought was that she’d take off like a gazelle.

  The thought grates on my last nerve, so I try to ignore it while I peer at the screen.

  I finally see the information I’m looking for. In fact, it’s been updated. When I’d first looked two weeks ago, all it had said was the Candy was wanted apprehended but not yet apprehended. The police were looking for her and had been for a few months. I opened another page. Last night, in her rage, , she’d pretty much given me the bare-bones of what she’d gotten herself into. Sweetness was wanted for first degree murder of a man named Alex Parker.

  A picture of the deceased was next to his name. Dude looked clean cut – like he’d been some kind of businessman before his untimely end. Candy’s words about how he’d been physically abusive rang in my ears. She said he’d beaten the shit out of her, but judging from this picture, no one would believe it.

  But I did.

  I knew a shit-ton of these kinda’ men – the ones who put on the front of perfection in public, but behind closed doors, it was a different story.

  I opened another page. All of Candy’s demographic information was on th
ere: African American; thirty-four years old; senior office manager at some firm in Ohio; current location: unknown.

  Damn, she’d traveled a long way to escape the nightmare.

  I leaned back and raked my hand through my hair thinking about all of the resources at my disposal. All she needed was a lawyer and I wondered why she hadn’t just secured one herself; but if they were trying to apprehend her for murder charges, it was most likely the case they would put her on remand. There was no doubt in my mind Candy wasn’t having that. She’d change her identity and work a pole all-damn-day before she let something like that go down.

  And she was a damn good dancer too…

  Hmm…

  Colt’s chair scrapes back and I close out the pages I had open. In a matter of seconds, he’s peering over my shoulder. “You’re not pissed, but you’re something,” he notes. “What’s going on, Trigg?”

  “There’s a woman,” I begin honestly.

  “A buckle bunny? Another one?” Colt rolls his eyes and walks away from me.

  I laugh because he knows me so well. “I don’t blame you for thinking like that, but this one is different, Colt,” I insist. I rise up from my chair with nothing but Candy on the brain.

  “I met her on a dating website. Went to see her this weekend.” I pause. “It’s a done deal.”

  “What’s a done deal?”

  “This girl is,” I answer. “The pussy was good. She was amazing…” I draw in a breath. My cock is spasming just thinking about her. The only thing to tame it are thoughts of the way she walked away from me and the reason why she did it.

  I have to think of something and already I have an idea in mind. I wish I had others, but I don’t. Don’t matter though. The plan I’m cooking up is gonna’ work and once I put all the pieces in place, Candy will have no reason to walk away from me ever again. All I’ll need to do is go back to Atlanta and nab her.

  I divert my thoughts just for a second. Now, I’m thinking about the boss lady who runs the place.

  Colt’s been moping around Bisbee for years, ever since he lost this girl named Sandy or Sally… or whatever her name was. Maybe if he lays eyes on Elektra, he’ll pull up out of his funk.

  “I’m going back to the ATL on the weekend,” I tell him. “Sure would be nice if you rolled with me, got out of the office for once in your life. Hell Colt, when was the last time you ventured outside of Arizona?”

  He grunts. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he barks, plopping back down at his desk and turning files. “You know how I am, Trigg. Everything I need is right here. Ain’t no need for me to go nowhere else.”

  I watch him for a second. “Not even to meet this gal that’s got my heart twisted into knots?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer.

  “I met another mama while I was there,” I add, trying to goad him. “Her name was Elektra. She was a pretty little thing too.”

  Colt shakes his head and his neck goes stiff.

  Fine. I don’t have time to peer-pressure Colton Wright. Truth is, there’s a ton other shit on my mind and I need to get to it if I’m going to make it back to Candy before she can up and leave Atlanta.

  * * *

  I leave the ranch and jump into my monster truck, heading for the city. It doesn’t take long for the calming, country vibe to be replaced with unrelenting hustle and bustle. Horns are honking and people’s fists are shaking outside of their car windows. There’s the racket of trap music blasting from the car in front of me, and a sixteen-wheeler barrels past in the lane on my right, going at speeds I know are fuckin’ illegal.

  I navigate all of this and get to the heart of the city. Parking my truck, I jump out and head to one of the tallest and shiniest buildings, where the baddest lawyer I know, Reba Sanders, works.

  She’s also my fucking ex.

  When Robert, the security man sitting at the front desk on the first floor, sees me, a grin spreads his lips thin and his eyes twinkle. “You’re here for Miss Sanders.”

  “You askin’ or tellin’ me, Rob?” I snap at him, bothered by the fact that he remembers who I am, even though months have passed since I’ve been here. I pull the messenger bag I have closer to my side.

  He wags his finger at me. “Is she expecting you?”

  “Naw,” I answer, scrubbing my jaw. “Shit, maybe I should have called first.”

  I ain’t got her number no more though…

  “No, this way is better,” he decides. “Miss Sanders doesn’t normally like surprises. It doesn’t give her the opportunity to control things; but I have a strong feeling she’s really gonna’ like this one.”

  Before I can say anything in response, he’s buzzing her office. The next thing I hear is Reba’s voice barking over the line.

  “Rob, what is it?”

  Just like that, a surge of bad feelings come over me. The last thing I wanna’ do is be engaging Reba – especially about shit like this, but out of all the things I can think of, this is going to be the most effective. All I need to do is figure out how to get her on board, especially when she learns why I’m so invested in this. If it was any other matter, I’d offer her some good cock and be on my way; but my cock belongs to Candy – even if Candy doesn’t know it.

  “Afternoon, Miss Sanders,” Rob sings, wiggling his bushy eyebrows at me. “I’ve got someone down here to you see you. He says it’s really important.”

  I scowl at Robert. I ain’t said no such thing. Don’t matter if he’s right!

  “I don’t have any appointments until later today,” she informs him. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Mr. Grant.”

  Her breath hitches. “Emmerson Grant?”

  “The one and only,” Rob responds.

  I feel like they’re gossiping about me behind my back, even though I’m standin’ right here.

  “You can… send him up,” she orders and the click of her phone hitting the cradle almost echoes through the reception hall.

  Rob smirks. “She said I can send you up, Mr. Grant,” he said, stretching out his hand, like he’s leading me to the highway to heaven. “She said she’ll see you now.”

  “I heard her. You had her on fuckin’ speaker,” I grouse, then I start for the elevator.

  Reba’s firm is on the fourth floor, and I know there will be quite a few stops to make before I reach it. I’m the only one on at first, but by the time we hit the first floor, a few people pile on. I nod respectfully at the group of women and look up at the ceiling, ignoring the sultry stares and subconscious feminine self-touches. The second floor arrives, and they pile off; but to my shock, Reba is standing outside of the elevator in a tight-ass skirt suit. Her hair is fashioned into country-girl ringlets that sprawl over her shoulders and trail down her back. Her cornflower-colored eyes flash before pinning me against the back of the elevator.

  “This elevator is full,” she tells a group of people standing behind her. She’s not concerned about their griping as presses the button to close the door.

  Immediately, Reba slams her hand against another button, which stalls the elevator. She rips open the buttons of her silk blouse and presses her titties against me, dragging me into a demanding kiss. She groans as her hands drop to my flaccid cock.

  “Oh, Emmy,” she moans. Her mouth moves to my neck. “Emmy, why do you do this to me? Make me wait so long, when you know we can’t stand to be a part?”

  I grab her wrists, tightly. “You done lost your mind?” I demand through my teeth.

  “Actually, I have,” she admits, tilting her head up, looking at me through her lashes. “Lost it nine months ago, after you wouldn’t return my calls.”

  “I’m not here for this, Reba.”

  “Hmm…” she hums. “Then what are you here for? You got yourself into some kinda’ trouble?”

  “I’m always in some kinda’ trouble. You know that about me.”

  She hums again. “And I always liked that rugged part of you. Especially between the sheets, Trigger.” She whispers m
y name, like it’s some big secret she was supposed to keep.

  Suddenly, a voice comes through the speaker inside of the elevator. “Is everyone okay in there?” It’s Rob.

  I push Reba off me and straighten my belt buckle. “We’re good, Rob.”

  “Yes, we’re very good,” Reba confirms.

  I grit my teeth. “We need to talk, Reba. In your office,” I add. “I need your help.”

  Reba narrows her eyes at me and then grins. She still doesn’t get it, but she will, just as soon as we get to her workspace. Her hand slides over the stall button and the elevator jerks into motion. The two second ride to her floor is the longest of my life.

  By the time the door is sliding open, Reba has rearranged her clothes and struts off, leading the way. Women cast their eyes in my direction, and I keep my eyes low as we head off.

  Finally, inside her office, she seals the door and takes her position behind a grand desk.

  “What do you need, Emmy?” she asks, using the nickname I hate so much.

  I take off my hat and sit in front of her. “I’ve got a friend that’s in trouble,” I divulge quickly. “I need you to pull on your resources to get the charges dropped.”

  Her blue eyes twinkle. “Who’s your friend? Somebody I know?”

  “Naw, you don’t know her.”

  “Her?” She grimaces.

  I reach into my leather messenger bag and pull out the file I compiled, which contains Candy’s details. I slide it across the desk and Reba rakes it closer, never once taking her eyes off me.

  “Who is she?”

  “Her name is Candace Parker. She’s a gal who lives in Atlanta. She’s up for the murder of her ex-husband, but he was an abusive sonofabitch. It was self-defense.”

  Reba doesn’t say anything as she reads through the documents. The more she reads, the more the erotic tenor she posed the minute she laid eyes on me dries up and is replaced with the bulldog, business exterior I need her to exude.